Like Simon Cowell, I hate homework and so does my son. It's damaging his mental health

This constant battle to get something, anything, on the page is causing unnecessary stress in young the life of a six-year-old already failing every test there is

Simon Cowell (Getty)

Last week my six-year-old son, George, missed his Tuesday evening swimming class because we had homework to finish. Yes, we missed a lesson that he loves – as well as being good for his overall health, it could also save his life one day – so that he could draw a picture of a wombat and write some facts about it in our “learning together” book that has to be completed every term.

The reality, which I’m sure many parents will recognise, was that I drew a wombat and George reluctantly coloured it in. Then he copied a few sentences that I had written for him, which took him the best part of an hour as his writing was interspersed with crying (his) and coaxing (mine) followed by shouting (both of us). If by “learning together” the school means that we are both learning that we hate homework, then it’s a pretty good title.

Like Simon Cowell, I don’t think homework has much benefit for young children. Cowell said he’d be happy for his five-year-old son Eric to quit education and work for him, and although the rest of us don’t have the cash behind us to make a similar choice, I think many parents would still agree with Cowell’s claim that “a healthy, happy kid is more important than an overeducated, stressed kid.”

Compared to some schools, I don’t actually think my son is given that much homework – three or four tasks every half term, plus eight spellings to learn every week – so it shouldn’t feel like an enormous pressure hanging over us. But, as anyone who has every tried to get a unwilling child to read or write will understand, it feels like such a futile exercise. Most of our homework sessions start out with a positive attitude from both of us, but as soon as George realises it’s yet another activity that he’ll struggle with he gets upset. Then a battle to get something – anything – on the page begins.

It all feels like a very unnecessary stress in young the life of a six-year-old who is already failing every test there is and is very aware that he is “behind” his classmates.

I understand the reasoning behind homework, and phonics tests and SATs, but it is ridiculous to claim that the children are not affected by the constant testing and benchmarking; that the ones that don’t make the grade aren’t made to feel bad about it. George told me he wasn’t allowed a speaking part in the school Christmas play because he can’t read. This is not the reason he was a silent shepherd, but the fact he would even articulate it in that way that broke my heart.

When I was George’s age, I adored reading and writing and would do extra homework without being asked, so it has been hard for me to understand that George simply doesn’t share my love of language. But that doesn’t mean he never will. He might be a late bloomer, as I’m told boys often are. At the moment, George wants to spend his free time swimming and playing football, or going to Lego club at the local library, feeding the squirrels in the park, trying out his new binoculars and bird watching. And I think all of these activities, done with enthusiasm, are much better for him than being forced to copy my sentences just so we have something to hand in on Monday morning.

I’m not one of those parents who thinks we should get rid of competition, or that every child needs to be a winner. But what message is it giving to my son, and other children in his position, that he can never do any of the homework set? That he never gets a chance to shine?

I’m sure it is not intentional on the part of my son’s school, or any schools in fact, but weekly reminders that he is not as “good” as the rest of his class are really giving the wrong message, and I do worry about the effect on the mental health of children forced to jump through such hoops when they are bound to fail.

I feel desperately sorry for George that he doesn’t ever get to enjoy the feeling of achievement that so many of his classmates already have. It might just spur him on to get those wombat facts written down.